Reasons for Deceit
by Michaela.Lala
Summary: its a story i got on a rough day.  but you know, that's what happens when crap happens.  you get a bit insane.  if you read, you'll know exactly what i mean.   ON HIATUS.  OUT OF INSPRATION.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hello! so this came into my mind while i was (shocker) playing softball. im actually using my brain on this one, so we'll see where it goes. enjoy!**

**xoxoxo**

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He just stood there, watching them. His face was shrouded in the shadows cast by the 6:30 setting sun, and she didn't notice him for the longest time. When she did, everyone was packing up their things and getting ready to go home. She saw his trench-coated figure next to a nearby house and squinted at him. _Who is that? _She wondered. She nudged her friend and jerked her head at the man, saying something. Her friend shrugged and kept packing a hoodie and a pair of gloves into her backpack.

When the girl finished packing up, she cautiously glanced back at where the man had been. He was still there, but all you could see was his shining white teeth, gleaming at her in a sadistic grin.

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A million things run through my mind all day. Sometimes they're songs; sometimes they're serious things like death, or sadness, or shit going on in life at the moment; sometimes they're fantasies about my prince charming and the love story I think I want. Almost always, no thought is indistinguishable from another.

That's what I thought about when I was walking to practice that Friday.

Pretty quickly after that, my mind flew to what ifs. This usually happened when my mind had nothing to think about. What if God isn't real? What if I had a thousand dollars in my pocket? What if someone jumped out from behind that bush and tried to kill me? What if I couldn't fend him off?

That's the problem with a mind like mine. When nothing is happening, you get careless and confused. Then you get bored and do something stupid and crazy. Actually, when I thought about it, maybe that was a teenager thing.

I was on my way from the bus stop toward the softball field: a four-block distance. I still had at least 45 minutes until practice started, so I hoped that I could get a good nap in before I had to get my blood pumping. I turned another corner, noticing about ten cars leading into one driveway. And I thought about parties.

But then, my train of thought was utterly shattered when a muffled squeak sounded in my ear. My head shot up and I froze in my tracks. Out of instinct, I searched the car next to me through the window. The front seat was average, not too dirty, and not too clean. The backseat looked normal, too, with a few doodads in the pockets on the back of the seats.

Unless of course you count the teenaged girl squirming on the floorboards, a gag in her mouth and her limbs tied together.

I recognized her immediately, as Rebecca from my team. I panicked. A million times more thoughts than usual poured through my brain at the speed of sound. _Should I call my mom? My dad? The police? Yes, definitely the police. Police like doughnuts… NO, FOCUS! I should get her out of there, in case her kidnapper comes outside. _Then_ I can call the police._

Deciding on that option, I tried the door. Naturally, it was locked. I thought for a second, and then dropped my school bag and softball backpack. I reached into the sports bag and gripped one of the large, optic-yellow, blue-stitched balls that I had stored there. I pulled it back and threw it into the window with as much force as I could. The glass window cracked, but didn't shatter. I grabbed the ball again and put my entire body into the throw. The glass crashed away from its frame, and I unlocked the door from the inside.

I threw open the door and wrapped my arms around Becca's torso, pulling her out as fast as possible. I felt warm blood ooze down my hands, but I didn't know if it was Becca's or mine. I reached into my schoolbag and pulled out a pair of scissors I had somehow needed today, and snipped the ties around Becca's ankles.

"That's all I can do now. Hurry, we have to get out of here before someone finds us!" I pulled her to her feet and snatched my stuff off the ground and ran for it. Rebecca's uneven steps were close behind me, and I led her toward a corner nearby and we hid.

"Okay, here," I whispered, panting. I cut the rope on her wrists and she pulled off her gag.

"Thanks—"

"Save it, I'm no hero." I whipped out my cell phone and slid it open. Shakily, I dialed the three numbers and waited while it rang.

"911, what's your emergency?" a man asked calmly from the other side.

"I need police to help me and my friend. I just got her away from her kidnapper, but I don't know when he'll come after us!" I breathed into the phone.

"Calm down, we'll be there soon. Where are you right now?" he asked.

"Um… somewhere near Mohawk and Baseline… I think we're… north—no, south—of that intersection. Near Burke softball field. Hurry, we're in danger!" I urged.

"Stay where you are. Help is on the way," the man told me, then hung up.

I sighed in relief. "Okay, Becca, we're safe. We just need to wait for the police, okay?"

"Okay. So, what now?" the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl asked in a frightened voice.

I thought about that. "We can't have him recognize you. Here, change into my school clothes," I said quickly, opening my schoolbag to reveal a tank top and jeans. She looked a bit uncomfortable with the idea.

"C'mon, hurry up," I implored quietly in frustration. She hesitantly nodded, and I turned around to let her change in the shrubs. In the distance, I could hear sirens. After a fast moment, Rebecca was finished.

"Okay, here's a ponytail, put your hair up," I handed her the elastic from around my wrist. She tied her hair into a messy bun and we sat down on the curb to wait for the cops.

They got there quickly. They turned off their sirens when they got closer to our spot, and they terrified us when they reached out to us.

"Which one of you called us?" one officer asked kindly.

I turned red in embarrassment and waved a hand. "Me."

"Good job. Rebecca, you're parents would like to see you."

"Thanks, sir. Oh, hey, Michaela," Rebecca turned back to me before she could get into the car.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Thanksforhearingme," she blurted out in one fell swoop and slid into the cab.

"Um, okay," I stared after the disappearing car.

"Miss," another officer grabbed my attention. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"U-um, okay…" I whimpered, having never been involved with the police before in my life.

"We can take you to the station first, if you'd like," he suggested.

"Um, I'd like to call my dad, if you don't mind," I smiled awkwardly. He nodded.

I flipped out my phone and pressed the number two and held it. It rang twice.

"What's up?" my dad asked casually.

"Um, hey, Dad…" I didn't know where to start.

"Is something wrong?"

"Sort of… yes… no… I don't know," I groaned.

"Helpful."

"Shut up."

"What's happening?" he asked slowly.

"Well, I have the police here with me. And _before you can say anything_," I interrupted him, "I'm not in trouble. Actually, I'm the hero of this little story. You know Rebecca from my team?"

"Yeah…"

"Yeah, so I found her tied up and gagged in a car. Basically that's it." I didn't mention Becca's comment yesterday, or that I'd seen the man before. I kept those secrets to myself for no apparent reason.

"…Um, okay. We'll pick you up later, I guess."

"Alright. Bye, love you."

"Love you too. Bye," he hung up.

I grabbed my things. "Officer, would you mind bringing me over to that field?" I pointed toward where my softball coach was setting up a pitching machine.

The officer looked confused but he nodded curtly. I dropped my sports stuff at the base of a tree and told my coach that my parents would be by to get it later. He nodded confusedly as I got in the police car and drove away.

"Are you alright, miss?" the officer asked.

"You know, compared to this, I've seen some weird stuff. I'm fine. For now, at least."

_For now._

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**A/N: R&R! dont forget!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: so, i decided to post another chapter. heck, why not?**

**enjoy! xoxo, Lala**

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"Cal, c'mon. There's someone waiting for you in your office," Gillian waved Lightman over toward his office, away from abusing poor Loker. His eyebrows rose at her with that 'why are you annoying me, I was just playing mind tricks' look on his face.

"What's wrong, darling? Out of pudding?" he asked on their way to the office.

"You don't need to worry about it," she replied.

"Oh, I get it; it _personal_, right?"

"No. I'm going to the store tonight," she smirked as she opened the door to his office. Lightman stared at her for a second before understanding the pudding joke and stepping into the room.

Inside was a woman with a business-casual outfit—clearly up her own ass—and jerked her chin as a sign of disrespect. He went to his desk and sat, propping his feet on his desk, sticking a candy disk into his mouth from his desk.

"My name is Francis Benedict," the woman introduced herself. "I'm the family lawyer of a family named Fredrickson. Their daughter, Rebecca, was kidnapped recently, and they want to find the man that did it."

He scrunched his eyebrows at her. "Is Rebecca all right, then?"

"Yes, she was found by a girl on her sports team. The girl broke the window of the car she was in and pulled her out."

He pretended to think about it, and then jumped up from his seat. "Well that's convenient. So where do these… Fredrickson people live?"

"Boulder, Colorado. If you want to see them, you'll have to go by yourself."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, darling," he grinned, walking his strange walk out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

The weekend had been miserable. I'd undergone so many press conferences and questionings that I was a pro by now. I sighed and stretched the ponytail in my hand to go around my ponytail a final time. It snapped in my fingers just before it went around.

"Shit," I growled, rubbing the spot where the elastic had snapped. I turned around to the closet behind my and tried to find another one. I did and wrapped my hair into a sloppy bun, not caring what it looked like.

I didn't bother with makeup either, too tired and worn out to try. I pulled on my coat while I exited the bathroom and rubbed my contact into a more comfortable position.

"Bye, Dad!" I called as I hefted my schoolbag over my shoulder, _not _looking forward to the school day. The door closed behind me, and I stepped forward, toward the bus stop that could very well take me to my eminent doom—AKA school.

XXXXXXXXXX

Cal Lightman didn't know anything about this Michaela person. She went to high school, had a tendency to stay at home a lot, and played some random American sport. He figured she had something to do with this, and he wanted to find out.

Of course, as a dad, he wasn't about to start stalking the poor girl. He thought he would use his power—as he always did—and infiltrate her high school.

"New Vista High School; this is Donna," someone answered the telephone.

"'Ello, Donna. My name is Cal Lightman, and I wanted to tell you that I would be _honored _to teach a class at your school," he said proudly.

"Um, sir, I'm sorry. I don't know anything about you or your work, so I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Well, I'd be willing to speak with your administrator, if that's what it takes."

"I suppose. I'll transfer your call to Kirk now."

"Thank you very much," he replied, lying back on his couch with feet propped on the arm.

"This is Kirk," a man answered the phone.

"'Ello, _Kirk_," Lightman smirked at the name, emphasizing the _k_ at the end. "My name is Dr. Cal Lightman. I am willing to teach a class at your school."

"What is it you do, Dr. Lightman?"

"I read faces; expressions and emotions," he clarified.

"Well, I'm sure there are students who would like to take that kind of class. I would love to have you. When would be best for you?" Kirk asked.

"Whenever is best for you."

"Well, we have a school-wide gathering every Wednesday. If you'd like to come in next week at about eleven-thirty, I can arrange that with you."

"Awesome. Buh-bye now!" the phone clicked off.

"Dad? Who was that?" Emily entered the room. Lightman waved her over to sit next to him on the couch. She did and he wrapped an arm around her, resting against the back of the sofa.

"That," he gestured to the phone, "was the principal of Michaela Johnson's high school."

Emily eyes lit up with amusement. "You're going to high school?"

Lightman sighed and rolled his head. "Yes, Em, I'm going to high school. Would you like to come along?" he suggested half-sarcastically, like always.

"Actually, I think that would be fun," she smirked.

"No," he told her quickly.

"C'mon, I could help connect with her," she put in.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I won't go on _any _dates until you meet him," she bribed carefully.

"Who?" he sat up straighter, like a bird when hearing a predator.

"No one, I'm just making a suggestion," she shrugged, letting the bait rest.

He eyed her. "Fine. But if anything happens, you go home."

"Sure, Dad."  
>XXXXXXXXXX<p>

"Welcome to community gathering!" Kirk announced, just like he did every Wednesday. "We actually have some good stuff going on the rest of this week and next week," he continued as the cheering died down. "We have teachers from the Breakthrough Arts classes at the YMCA, giving out flyers as usual outside the door as you leave," he read off a note card. "We also have a senior teaching Kung Fu for the rest of the year in room 112 after school; talk to Tyler Cardimmon for details."

A guy, probably Tyler, stood up and shouted, "First lesson is free," to the general auditorium.

"We also have a class taught by Dr. Cal Lightman being held…" Kirk squinted at the card, "today, after school, in room 210. He's going to come up and talk now." Kirk left the microphone and the whole room went silent. I sighed, ready for lunch.

"My name is Cal Lightman," a short man was standing at the mic, accompanied by two other women. "This is my colleague Gillian and my daughter Emily," he half mumbled his daughter's name. Nevertheless, some asshole whistled at her. Lightman pretended to ignore it.

"We are experts in reading faces. Some people call us 'human lie detectors,'" the woman, Gillian, said into the mic. "We can see every twitch, every gesture you make and we can analyze it."

"For example," Lightman shoved his way to the mic again. "Um… you, there," he pointed in my direction. I looked around, waiting for someone to stand up and be his guinea pig.

Wait.

"Me?" I pointed to myself.

"Yes, you, now come on," he rushed me.

Awkwardly, I stood up and smoothed out my top. It was a simple off-white tank top with a dark blue drapey vest over it. I readjusted my dark jeans as I went down as well, and brushed my hair behind my ear nervously.

"Your name?" he looked like he already knew that.

"Michaela."

"What grade are you in?"

"Ninth."

"Okay…" the other two adopted a look that said 'oh shit, here he goes.' "Now, why have you been missing precious hours of sleep?"

"Because I've been busy."

"Busy…?"

"Busy with personal things. I play a lot of softball."

"Now see, that's true," he turned to the audience. I was beginning to feel like a circus act. "However, that's a classic deflection. Now, Michaela. What is happening in softball that has you staying up all night?"

My face tightened. I got a burning sensation in my gut that said 'fight him. You're more stubborn than he is.' "You know, I would appreciate it if you minded your own business."

"See, now I know she's hiding something. Not just by her words, which could be deceptive, but by her face. Her cheeks are tense, and she did what I can a shoulder shrug, which means she isn't going to tell us. Also, I can tell Michaela here is stubborn because her jaw is clenched and jutting out in a defiant way."

I restrained the urge to growl. "What else do you know about me, now that you've seen my face?" I ground out.

He glanced at me for a second, and then covered the microphone. He bent over and whispered in my ear.

"More than you want me to know, but I'm here to find out more."

My eyes twitched.

"Let's see what Michaela can tell about… Emily." He gestured toward his daughter, who stepped forward happily. He gave me the mic.

"Um, what?" I asked him. Everyone in the audience laughed.

"Just ask her questions," Gillian smiled warmly.

"Okay…" I smirked. "Is your dad always such a dick?" I said into the microphone. I held it to her.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Figured as much. Uh, why did you come here?" I asked. I watched her face carefully shifting from confusion, to realization, to caution, to daring to a slight glance at her father, to Gillian, to the school, then to me.

"We thought we'd go see the mountains in the summer." She was clearly lying, but I let it go. After all, people lie all the time. We have our reasons. I could only wonder, though, what Cal Lightman's reasons could _possibly _be.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**A/N: R&R please!**


	3. Notice

hey guys, Lala here!

so i apologize in advance (sorta).

im putting this story on hiatus for awhile. i have little to no inspiration and it doesnt really apply to my life anymore, so if i wrote it, it would _suck._

i still love u guys, and if you want, you should go read my other stories! (they're good if i do say so myself.)

XOXO,

Lala


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